Aftermath
by Bobbie23
Summary: She's lying in bed, he's in the shower. (No characters assigned, imagine whoever you want. Author Note will explain more). Nothing really explicit, rating just a precaution.


**Author Note – When I wrote this I started writing one pairing and then my mind morphed it to another. I couldn't decide who this would fit better so I haven't assigned any characters to this because I want you to imagine whoever you want. I would be interested to know who you see in your head while you're reading this. I know it's short, but please read and review.**

Aftermath

Beads of sweat roll down her bare back as she lies face down on her bed. Sheets pool at her waist as she props herself up on her elbows. The fully sated, satisfied ache takes over her body as her heart rate returns to normal. She flops forward, face planting her pillow as she emits a contented groan. She doesn't attempt to piece together the thoughts going through her head right now, there's too many to catalogue, most of them flashes of the last few hours.

The shower runs loudly in the bathroom and she listens to it. Beyond the water she can hear the muffled humming. Cocking her head to the side she snickers quietly at the slightly off key tune, whatever it is she doesn't recognise it. She never imagined he was a hummer, although there was that moment when his lips skimmed across her thigh, his murmurs vibrating off her skin…no, her body won't let her think of that right now, every fibre of her being screams 'Don't even think about it.'

There was an awkward moment when their post orgasmic haze lifted when he asked to use her shower, she agreed and was grateful when he didn't ask her to join him. It doesn't matter what romance books say about sharing a shower or a bath, or people who claim the water heightens the sensations. In reality, in her experience, it ends up being more awkward than erotic, never mind when the hot water runs out.

She stretches her back, her joints crack against their will and she exhales loudly before flopping back down onto the mattress. Despite the energetic few hours, she's strangely alert. She will never admit it but she's imagined this moment several times, each time the scenario is different. The reality is different from her imagination.

She's in no hurry to move or kick him out. With previous lovers, she usually does as soon as they come down from their climax, but she knows her usual evasive tactics won't work with him. They never did before they ended up in bed together. In fact, her evasion made him more determined to be her friend, her independence made him more protective and while it irritated the hell out of her she liked his perseverance.

Nothing out of the ordinary happened today, nothing significant. She always assumed something would tip them over the edge, one of them would be hurt or upset or they'd be screaming at each other and they would surrender to the tension. In the end, it was anti-climactic. Well, not exactly but…

They could get into a lot of trouble if anyone finds out. Hell, they could lose their jobs if anyone finds out. She doesn't feel guilty though, she isn't worried about what will happen tomorrow or what will happen when he emerges from the bathroom. She doesn't have the energy or the inclination to panic. There has been so much build up to this moment in her mind that the aftermath can wait a little longer. She just wants a moment before reality catches up with them.

The water shuts off and she listens to him getting out of the shower. He mumbles something as he realises he never asked her for a towel. In her head she can see him blinking in the steam, looking around her bathroom as he tries not to stare at the make up on the counter. In her head, he isn't quite able to fight the urge to snoop though and she smiles at the vision of him stepping, completely naked, towards them. He would pick up the cleanser and wrinkling his nose as he reads the fine print at the bottom of the bottle before hastily putting it back, nudging it when he realises he put it back in the wrong place.

She's bought back to the present by the sounds of rustling fabric and she rolls on to her side facing the bathroom door. The sheets drape over her form as she props herself up on her elbow as the door opens and he steps out in nothing but her purple towel, holding it closed at his hip.

She watches his face closely, a tiny, inviting grin on her face as his gaze travels the length of her body finally reaching her eyes when his own smirk forms.

"Hi," he says gruffly as he steps forward, his grip loosening allowing the towel to slip to the floor.


End file.
